The Benefactor
by Mereidia
Summary: Companion piece to 'Fathers and Sons'. Erik is judged for his crimes on Earth and must prove that he is worthy of paradise. Will a few acts of kindness be enough to keep him from an eternity of Hell? Completely revamped, so reread chapter 1!
1. Sins of Omission

_Author's Note: Fondest greetings to you all... In a desperate attempt to avoid studying formy final exam tomorrow, I've decided to post this to see how it goes. Some of you may recall the inital story I posted under this title and you needn't worry; it is part of this tale. You will most likely find this idea strange at first, but I hope that it might prove to be a bit intriguing and hopefully it will at least keep some of you occupied! For phans of 'Fathers and Sons', this story picks up right as Erik and Raoul walk through the lighted doorway into the beyond. For those who haven't yet read that piece, this story should still make sense._

_For the record, I was raised as a Roman Catholic - needless to say, you'll find a heavy Catholic influence on some topics discussed here. As religion is always a delicate topic, I'd like to take time now to say that I mean no offense to any religion in my interpretations of Heaven and Hell. If anything I've done here offends you, I apologize in advance - but please remember that no offense was intended._

_I definitely don't own Erik, Christine, or any of the characters mentioned from the works of Susan Kay or Gaston Leroux but everyone you do not immediately recognize belongs my poor, chemistry flooded mind. The opening paragraph is stolen from Charles Dickens, thanks to a dare by my' phriend', Mary (who claimed that I couldn't incorporate PotO with A Christmas Carol!). _

**_The Benefactor - Sins of Omission_**

Erik was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. While he may have resembled a corpse in life, now he had a perfectly acceptable reason for the state of his face and emaciated body. Christine had cried with him as he died; Nadir had buried him. Old O.G. was as dead as a door-nail.

Of course, this change of affairs caught Erik quite off guard; it is still rather surprising when one considers the anticipation with which he awaited his death. Lying wearily in Christine's arms one moment, he found himself transported to a warm, bright room the next. And once he had discovered a window which allowed him to watch his love and her family on Earth, he had never left that first chamber of light.

However, he could not deny the presence of an innate urge, a constant desire to move on intothe bright hallway at one side of the chamber– no doubt the path to eternity. He stayed in this limbo and watched with wonder at the world he had formerly inhabited but never had truly known. For all of his learning and genius, he found that he had truly missed the focal point of life, the true meaning for living. He had sobbed to himself when he confirmed what he had always thought in life; he had realized that despite his fifty-some years on the planet, he had never truly lived.

But as the years passed, he found that he had other visitors in the room - visitors that would stay and chat for a few minutes before walking unhesitatingly through the illuminated doorway. He envied these people for their faith that a greater reward awaited them on the other side; he had no doubt that Hell was just waiting to claim his soul.

The worst of these visitors was Christine herself; she had sobbed uncontrollably when she realized that her maestro would not accompany her beyond this small room on the path to heaven. She had stayed with him the longest of all of the visitors, watching over her small family for a few moments before the pull of the doorway became too strong for her to resist. She had kissed him once more, for the last time in eternity, and stepped through the doorway.

Watching her silhouette pass into the light, Erik wished with all of his dark soul that he could just die again, that he could just be granted the cold yet forgiving peace of the grave.

The years passed and countless souls passed by Erik toward their final judgment. Priests and thieves, murderers and children - all passed him by and unhesitatingly moved into the light. Finally, years after his death and that of his love, Erik decided that he too could muster the strength to try once more. He would try once more and would accept God's judgment, all for the hope of one final glimpse of Christine's face as he was dragged into the depths of Hell.

* * *

He passed through the doorway and suddenly found himself alone in another chamber - seemingly small yet immense at the same time. The right half of the room was as bright as the doorway had been while the other, the left side, was darker than even the cellars of the Opera had been. 

He stepped closer to the shadows, his yellow eyes seeking movement from within the darkness. Something was creeping around there, just beyond the range of his vision. He moved to step closer but suddenly, a loud, ethereal voice boomed from behind him.

"Erik, your soul has been brought here to stand before Heaven and Hell to be judged for your actions on Earth."

Erik whirled around to face the voice and saw that a choir of angels had materialized behind him. They were all dressed in immaculate white robes andtheir hair flowed freely over their shoulders and over their wide, shining wings. He knelt down before them, stunned into silence by their beauty.

The owner of the voice stepped forward and Erik gasped as he looked into its face. The angel's visage was masculine but also held some of the features of a woman; it was stunningly beautiful, a flawless creation of God himself. But when Erik met the eyes of the other, he shuddered.

The angel's eyes were missing from his face; the holes where his eyes should have been were empty and an intense, bright light shone from the two sockets, giving Erik the feeling that the angel could see straight through him and into his soul.

"Erik, you will be judged by the laws of Heaven and it will be determined whether or not you will be placed in paradise or in torment until the end of time and the beginning of eternity. At that time, you will be judged by God himself and granted your final reward or punishment. I will now begin by reading the account of your life; your successes and achievements, your crimes and sins have all been recorded and will now be considered."

As Erik bowed his head in reverence, the angel opened a golden scroll and began to read. Erik trembled at the sound of his melodic voice; it seemed a crime to have such a lovely instrument of sound reduced to speaking of the actions that would forever repulse and revile even Erik himself. As the list continued and he was forced to relive each crime and shortcoming, tears began to fall from his eyes and ran down his cheeks.

The reading of this list lasted for what seemed like another lifetime and when the voice finally ceased, Erik had huddled into himself, sobbing like a child. The voice then called him out of his musings.

"Erik, these are the crimes that you have committed in defiance of all holy and sacred principles. The forces of Hell will now be called to argue for the possession of your soul."

Erik looked up in horror for whilehe had assumed that he would be destined for Hell, he did not expect that his judgment would be so swift; the agents of Heaven were supposed to be merciful. The angel still looked down on his huddled form and Erik moved his lips, trying to force himself to speak his one last request.

Suddenly, sharpened talons and vicious teeth ripped across his skin and tore at his face, robbing him of the ability to even think clearly enough to beg to see Christine for one last time. He could smell the disgusting odor of sulfur on the demons' breath and their hideous rasps as they laughed in glee. As they tormented him, Erik saw that the angels looked on in disgust but they made no move to help him.

He could do nothing but allow himself to be subjected to this torture as the demons hissed at the angels, fighting for the right to lay claim to his soul. The head angel, unmoved by the writhing masses before him, calmly argued back that many of the crimes that Erik had committed were forgivable by God. The bantering continued for what seemed like another lifetime, all while Erik was tormented by the very claws and teeth of Hell.

Suddenly, another ethereal voice rang out over the sounds of Erik's screams and the demons' hissing. Upon hearing this cry, the demons left him, screeching in terror at the appearance of this new being. Unwilling to open his eyes, he heard this other voice speak to the head angel politely as it moved closer to Erik. He was roughly pulled into a seated position and he opened his eyes to see the owner of the voice facing the choir of angels.

This other being was obviously an angel as well; it had the same height and build as the other heavenly creatures. But this creature's robes were torn and tattered, the immaculate white cloth was smudged with filthy and soot. Erik gasped as he saw the remnants of this creature's wings; the thick white feathers had been charred and torn, leaving only a smoking wreckage in their stead. His quick intake of breath brought him to this being's awareness and it slowly turned toward him.

This angel was as beautiful as any of the others; the work of God's own hand was visible in the high, finely sculpted cheekbones and soft lips. This angel was more feminine than male, and her thick dark hair draped over her shoulders and caressed her breasts, which were barely covered by the smoldering material of her robes. She walked towards him slowly and he looked up into her face and prepared himself to meet her glowing gaze.

He gasped in horror as he saw that which was the angel's eyes. Whereas her brothers and sisters had eyes of pure, white light this angel's gaze was one of complete darkness. The black orbs radiated evil, burning Erik with the intensity of their malevolence. He cowered in her presence, issuing a silent prayer to God to spare him from this wicked being.

"Prayers will not do you any good now, Erik." The angel declared in a chillingly beautiful voice. "If you had truly desired to escape such a fate, you should have remembered God a bit more during your time on Earth."

The dark angel faced the white guardians once again and spoke, her magnificent voice tinged with impatience. "Camael, why have you hesitated on this judgment? I had expected a quick resolution to this man."

Camael, the head angel, looked at Erik before replying to her inquiry. " Mortoliel, this man's case is very unique. He may not have abided by all of God's laws, but he has always held the most sacred of teachings near his heart. He has truly suffered in life and has tried to repent for his sins..."

The dark angel sighed and impatiently tapped her foot on the floor of the room. "Camael, this man has violated the laws of Heaven and Hell more times than I can recall. He was a Catholic and never sought absolution. He has never worshipped any deity since his childhood. He has not even held human life to be sacred. How can you even hesitate on delivering your judgment? His soul is destined for Hell."

"Mortoliel, many men have been forgiven for the crimes that Erik has committed. Murderers and thieves have entered Heaven before, even without confessing their sins. This man had truly repented many of his crimes and many have prayed for the sake of his soul."

"Does Heaven forgive him for his crimes?"

"God will always forgive a repentant sinner, Mortoliel."

"But God will not judge until the end time. Where is he to go until then? I am under orders to bring his soul to Hell."

"I have already told you that many of his crimes have been forgiven before. He has repented for many of his sins."

"There is one sin that he has not repented, Camael. And it is for that sin that I summon his soul to Hell. The murders can be forgiven, but this crime cannot."

"Mortoliel, what crime do you mean? What has he not repented?"

"The sins of omission."

The demons lurking in the shadows hissed in glee when Mortoliel stated this. A dark glare from her silenced them, but to Erik's dismay Camael looked discomfited at this declaration. The angel frowned and nodded silently.

"I see, Mortoliel. It is a pity, but you are correct as always. You may take him."

"No!" Erik cried out in horror. "I will accept my fate, but you cannot condemn me for something that I did not do! Let me burn for the murders and the tortures, not for my inactions!"

Mortoliel turned to him, her dark eyes tearing into his soul. "You have been forgiven for all that you truly have regretted. But, you never regretted wasting God's gifts to you - of which there were many. You may have been lacking in appearance, but your intelligence and talents were without equal in the world. You took these things for granted and never shared them with mankind. You never did anything to benefit another human being without expecting something in return. Instead, you manipulated and used your fellow man for your own devices; never did you learn to interact with them on an honest and decent basis. You were given more gifts than almost any other man ever alive and you squandered them instead of cherishing them. When did you ever bring anything but pain to another human being?"

Erik sobbed at this horrible statement; it was a painfully true fact of his life. He had tried to share his abilities with the world when he was a child, but he had simply ceased to make further attempts in his adulthood. Reflecting on his life, he realized that while he had so desperately yearned for compassion from another human,he could not remember a time when he had acted simply out of sympathy or compassion on another's behalf. Everything he had ever done had occurred only while thinking of himself. Even his love for Christine was selfish; he had forced her to suffer in his mad quest for her love.

He could not help but regret his life now; it would have truly been for the best had his mother drowned him at birth. He knew and accepted his fate, but still he turned to the choir of angels looking for support, desperately searching for one sympathetic glance. He found none; the divine creatures were emotionless and unmoved by his plight. Looking again at Camael, he cringed as the angel lifted his arms.

"Heaven cannot forgive the sin not repented." he called out, his divine voice echoing throughout the immense room.

Mortoliel lifted her arms in the same manner. But despite her actions, she seemed to hesitate for a moment as a look of remorse crossed her beautiful face. But this emotion was swiftly fleeting and she then opened her mouth and declared "Hell awaits the sinner not repenting."

The brightness began to recede from the room as the demons cheered for their victory. The stench of sulfur and brimstone permeated the chamber and the temperature of the room rose sharply. He cringed as he felt these changes; he could only hope that this torment would be no more horrible than that which he could bear. The choir of angels faded into the distance and Erik began to cry again; he would not even be granted one more glimpse of any of his family again.

Suddenly, their descent into Hell stopped as a small voice cried out "No! It's not right! You mustn't take him!"

Mortoliel whirled around, her hair flying and her black eyes blazing with anger. In a beautiful but terribly frightening voice, she called "Who dares to challenge this judgment?" The demons hissed as a small child, neither male nor female, in white appeared in the midst of the smoke and cinders. While obviously frightened by the horrible monsters, the child answered in a timid voice.

"I do. I am of Heaven and this man does not deserve to burn. He has committed great crimes, but his life has changed those of other men for the better. He must not be punished for that."

Camael then appeared in his white glory and took the small child by the shoulders. "Child," he stated in a firm voice, "you must never violate the judgment of another soul. You mustn't cross the boundaries of Heaven and Hell; it is not permissible. Mortoliel, I apologize for this interruption."

He took the child by the shoulders and turned to leave. The demons cheered in response but just as all hope abandoned Erik, Mortoliel called to the departing angels.

"Camael, I will not accept this soul until I hear all of the facts. Child, come to me…"

The small child turned and walked slowly toward the fallen angel. Camael pursed his lips in annoyance; it was against all of the laws of Heaven for a mortal soul to take part in the first judgment. When the child stood before Mortoliel, it faced her malevolent gaze unflinchingly, apparently ready to answer her questions.

"Child, you claim that this man has not committed the crime that he has been accused of?" The white head nodded in response. "Do you have proof that this man is innocent, that this man used his talents to benefit mankind without any gain for himself?"

Before the child could respond, Camael angrily interjected "No mortal soul can be called into the judgment of another. It is forbidden by all of God's laws!"

Mortoliel rounded on him, her black eyes burning into him. "Camael, I will not take this soul until the truth has been heard. I may be an angel of Hell, but I will not cheat a man of his immortal soul." She stated harshly.

Turning to the child, she held out her hand. Like the rest of her body, it was beautifully formed but covered in soot and ash. "Child, I have listened to your claims. Now, you must show me…" The child hesitated for a moment but then placed its slender hand within that of the dark being.

The world around him shook with violent tremors and Erik felt himself being ripped from the gates of Hell and thrown back into the world. He saw himself fly through various images from his lifetime, his entire past a whirlwind of color and sounds.

They finally stopped in a place barely familiar to his keen mind. The child still held onto Mortoliel's hand and the two spirits moved onward. He stayed in place until Mortoliel turn around, her black eyes commanding him to accompany them on their journey into his life. Despite his misgivings, he had no choice but to obey and followed the two beingsthrough the images of his time on Earth.

_A/N: Okay, so here's the start of this lovely little endeavor. For those who remember, I had mentioned that this would be a trilogy. Instead, I'm going to just combine all of the independent parts into this one story as it seems like it will flow better as one piece instead of three.Some of you may remember the following chapter; it has hardly been changed._

_There were several comments from reviewers before who disliked my lack of character development in the following chapter; I wholeheartedly agree with many of your comments. However, I purposely avoided too much personal reflection on Erik's behalf given that I wanted to keep Erik's past in a purely objective light; I wanted to just tell a story with no emotional strings involved. After each 'story', the next chapter will include Erik's reflections as he reexamines the actions of his life. _

_Hopefully, this is not too far fetched and I've been trying to write in a different style than I am used to; it has been difficult for me to try to wrap this together but I really wanted to see if this idea could work. I'm not very good at handling supernatural pieces but I wanted to give it a shot and wanted to challenge myself by taking a new approach to my writing. As a result, I'm very interested to hear what all of my readers think. Please, any comment, no matter how small or insignificant, will be greatly appreciated._


	2. 1860: Colette

_Author's Note: As usual, those characters you recognize are not mine (Susan Kay gets a lot of credit in this one). Characters who are new to you are mine. _

_**The Benefactor – 1860: Colette**_

_Haussmann's Slums - 1860_

"_It was here among the poor that I found lodgings..." Erik, Phantom by Susan Kay_

A small girl and her mother rushed through the streets of Paris, both laden with baguettes and vegetables.

"Allons-y, Colette! We must hurry or we will be unable to get lunch ready in time for the boarders."

The girl struggled to keep up with her mother, her long black braid swinging against her back as she ran through the crowds in pursuit of the stained skirt that belonged to her mother. The two finally reached their destination; a shabby, run-down building that was deep in the mire of the Parisian slums. Rushing inside, they first went up three stories to their home and began to cook for their renters who lived in the rooms above them. A watery soup was prepared using the wilting vegetables purchased 'fresh' from the market and dry, stale baguettes were broken apart and laid on greasy trays that the mother carried to the boarders on the upper floors. For this sumptuous meal and those of breakfast and dinner which consisted of similar fare, a fee of 5 francs was added to the rent of 15 francs per week. Laundry was, of course, extra. The rent was quite cheap considering the fees of the other local landlords, yet the owners preferred to keep the boarders who had lived there for several years and who could not afford an increase in rent. To accommodate the rising costs of living, it was much simpler just to charge the newest reclusive boarder more.

The new resident lived alone in a single room on the top floor and never left during the daylight. Only the the owner, Jean, had ever seen him and had only been willing to rent him a room at an incredibly inflated rate of 45 francs per week. According to Jean, the man was easily able to afford this and endured no undue hardships as a result of these extortionate prices. Besides, it was not as if the man could find lodgings elsewhere given the high demand for rooms and his unique circumstances. For the amount of work that went into heating bathing water for the recluse and carrying it up to the top floor every bloody day, Jean thought it best to milk the man for all he was worth.

Colette was ten years old at the time and was the third child of the Durogy family. Her two older brothers were fifteen and thirteen and the four children after her ranged from one to six years of age. Thanks to her mother who had briefly been educated as a child herself, she was able to read, write, and do simple mathematics. From her maternal grandfather came the antique violin, the most valuable possession in the family, on which she had been taught to play as one of his last wishes. Her talents were simple, commonplace when compared with those of other children her age, but never was there a girl that approached her studies with more passion or vigor. Sadly, she lacked the time to devote to her studies given the need for her to help her mother in her landlady duties as well as the care of the younger siblings.

It was during this August that a heat wave swept through Paris and forced hundreds of the infirm to fall victim to heatstroke. Colette's mother, seven months into another pregnancy, took ill and was forced to retire to her bed. Colette took the brunt of her chores and spent hours slaving away in the sweltering kitchen preparing meals for her family as well as the boarders and for the first time in her life, would have to take the trays to those who preferred to take their meals in their own rooms. Her older brothers, both of whom were lazy and indulged by their father, did their only part and prepared the list for her of which rooms she needed to visit and she lugged the heavy tureen to the upper floors. One day, the last room on the list was that of the recluse.

Knocking timidly at the door, she waited with the tureen balanced on her small hip and did her best to mask her shock at the masked man who opened the door and glared down at her. Dressed in his shirtsleeves due to the heat, he eyed her venomously as he silently reproached her for disturbing him.

"Bonjour, monsieur. I have brought your breakfast for you." she said in a quiet voice.

"I do not take breakfast. Nor have I taken any food from you since I moved here." he replied coldly.

"Mais, monsieur, n'est pas possible. Your room is on the list..." she broke off as she heard the laughter of her two brothers on the floors below who were listening to this exchange. Erik heard it as well and looked back to the girl whose exhausted eyes had filled with tears.

"I am sorry to bother you, monsieur. They...It was a joke..." she whispered and turned to leave. Watching her bravely hide her tears and knowing full well the punishment she'd receive for wasting food, Erik was moved with pity for the girl and called to her.

"Mademoiselle, I may not have intended to be on the list but perhaps I could purchase the meal anyway. How much do you charge for breakfast?"

The girl turned toward him and with a thin smile answered "I don't know about one meal, sir, but the board is five francs per week." Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a two franc piece and offered it to her. "Surely then, this will cover my fare."

Her eyes widened and she backed away from his outstretched hand. "Monsieur! That is too much! That would cover your meals for half of the week!"

"It is the smallest piece that I have."

"Sir, which meals would you like then? I cannot accept this if I cannot bring up meals to you. It isn't right."

"Just bring me dinner, mademoiselle. That will be enough; it is too hot out to eat anyway." as soon as the words passed his twisted lips, he was remorseful. The thin child before him looked as though she would never been too uncomfortable by any situation to refuse food. Regardless of the comment, she smiled and handing him his tray and the tureen, curtsied and turned to leave.

"I shall see you at dinner time then, monsieur."

For the remainder of the week, she brought him the dinners which she had prepared and each night carried up his hot bathing water in the stead of her mother. On Saturday night, she had just carried up the hot water when she heard him playing his violin in his room. She sat and listened for several minutes as the music surrounded her with its healing balm and made her feel as though she were in heaven. She completely forgot about her exhausted state and sat on the stair outside of his room until the door swung open and he stood before her.

"How long were you intending to stay here?" he asked her coldly. She stood up suddenly and spilled some of the water which she had carried. "Oh, I am sorry monsieur! It was just...you play so well...it's so beautiful..."

His eyes softened as he contemplated her and he held out his hand and took the pail of water. "Have you ever studied music?" he asked, fully believing that she never would have had the opportunity to do so. To his surprise, her gaunt face lit up with excitement and she babbled enthusiastically "Oh yes, monsieur! I play too, but not nearly as well as you. My granpapa, he left me a violin and my mother taught me how to play a bit on it. She taught me lots of stuff but I don't always have time to study it and I don't ever get to practice now that Mother is ill."

"How is your mother?" he asked her in a gentle voice. "She is feeling better. She said she'll improve when it gets cooler out."

"That is good. Take care of yourself, ma petite. It won't do your mother any good to have to tend an ailing daughter as well as herself. Thank you for the meals and water."

When the next week began, she no longer brought up dinner to him at the normal time but continued to leave smaller portions next to the pails of hot water every night. He questioned her the second night that she did this and she answered that it was merely leftovers and that somebody should eat them. He was moved by her thoughtfulness yet was unable to think up a way to show his gratitude. August came to an end and by the middle of September, Colette's mother had given birth prematurely to an ailing infant that cried incessantly.

Colette continued to tend to her mother's duties but her small, malnourished body was not strong enough yet to do the work of a woman. The first week of October, she collapsed on the stairs to Erik's apartment and laid there until he had opened his door to wonder why she had never come with his water. He had rushed her down to her apartment and handed her to her mother, ignoring the stares, jests, and insults thrown to him by her father, brothers, and other residents. A doctor was called and Erik paid for his services without hesitation.

Colette had fallen victim to a severe illness which would weaken her for years to come. After time being bedridden, she developed pneumonia which took its toll on her lungs and a fever which took its toll on her heart. Jean refused to pay for further doctor visits, stating that it was money wasted on a hopeless cause. In response to this, Erik 'arranged' with her mother to have his laundry done and his meals brought to him and took care to pay her extra so that the money could be used for Colette's medical care. Thanks to his money and the doctor's care, Colette was safe from danger by November, yet was terribly weak and confined to her bed.

The walls bored her to tears as she lay in her bed, unable to leave to even walk to the window. Her mother had long since gone to bed and there was no one who cared about the young girl who lay lonely and frightened in her solitary, dark bedroom. She vaguely remembered being moved here so as to not infect the other children and she spent her days completely alone except for those moments when her mother would come in with food or medicine. She had already read all of her books in her mother's small library and had even taught herself how to knit, yet she still was bored and yearned for more.

The faint sounds of a violin sounded from outside her window and she listened intently, completely enraptured by the beautiful music. She knew that it was the reclusive man playing without even looking and listened to him as he poured his soul in to the sound. She secretly wished that she could play even half as well as he.

The next day, she asked her mother for her violin.

Erik soon became aware of the strained sounds that came from the room adjacent to his. While not precise in their pitches, he could easily make out a struggled attempt to recreate the song which he had played the night before. Astonished at this, he knocked briefly on the door and entered. It was easy for him to see in the dim light, however it took him several glances to locate the small figure buried in the large bed against the wall.

"Monsieur? I'm sorry, have I disturbed you? I didn't mean to make too much noise."

"Mademoiselle, you are too weak to play. For heaven's sake, rest and try to regain your strength."

"But monsieur, I will not have the chance to play once I am well. Besides, it isn't too hard to lift it."

"You should focus on your reading studies. They will undoubtedly be more useful to you and they will not tax your energy." He stated rationally.

"I have read all of my books, monsieur. There are only so many times that one can read a primer. I'm sorry to have disturbed you though. Are there any times that would be better for me to play?"

Without comment, he turned and swept from the room. Crestfallen, Colette hung her head as she clutched her violin to her chest. She would never be a good musician, not without help.

As if Heaven had heard her prayers, Erik returned with a thick book in one hand and a few sheets of music in the other. He stood at the foot of her bed and held up the leather bound book. "If you promise to take care of this, I believe you will find some of the stories inside to be suitably entertaining. And if you insist on playing, perhaps you will find it easier to play something that is written down rather than from memory."

"Oh, monsieur! Monsieur, thank you! Thank you so very much!" The eyes in the sunken face lit up with excitement and happiness.

"Think nothing of it. But I'd rather you not speak to anyone of this..."

Colette kept her promises to remain silent as to her developing relationship with the reclusive boarder. Each week, he came to bring her a new novel and one or two new pieces scribbled down on music parchment. She practiced to the point of exhaustion and would spend the rest of the day reading whatever book he had lent her or working on her needlepoint or knitting. At Christmas, Erik opened his door to find that her mother had left him a well-cooked Christmas dinner on a tray and a small wrapped package that contained a hand-made scarf in which musical notes were woven. It was the third gift that he had ever received in his life and when he struggled to thank Colette for her offering, she merely laughed her childish laugh and wished him a Merry Christmas from her bed.

January and February passed uneventfully as Colette regained some of her strength. She was still unable to leave her bed for long periods of time but in her pale, gaunt face, her eyes shone happiness and renewed vitality. Although Erik barely spent ten minutes in her company per week, she still greeted him with enthusiasm and excitedly devoured all that he could offer her. Sadly, this simple life could not last.

In March, Colette's oldest brother, still unemployed but constantly indulged, entered her room to find her reading from one of Erik's texts. Knowing that the beautiful leather bound novel could not possibly belong to his sister, he accused her of stealing despite the fact that she had been confined to the upper room for nearly six months. When she was forced to break the silence about her benefactor, her father presumed the worst and ordered Erik to vacate the apartment. Not wishing to provoke anyone, Erik complied and within a day had all of his belongings packed and ready for travel.

Awaiting Jules' wagon, Erik sat in his empty flat with his masked face in his hands. _It always ends like this..._ he bitterly mused. There was a soft knock on his door and he opened it, expecting to see Jules' hunched form on the other side. Instead stood Colette, wrapped in her mother's shawl and shivering in the cold air of the stairway.

"Mother says that you are leaving, monsieur. I wanted to give you this back..." and she held out the book as well as a large stack of music that she had collected from him over the months.

Swallowing uncomfortably, Erik looked past the girl to see her mother watching from a doorway below. She caught his gaze and for the first time in Erik's life, a woman's smile was directed at him and him alone. He looked back to the young girl and saw that again, tears had filled her eyes. He found this quite depressing; the girl had met him crying and would leave him crying. Was he never to have another image of her? Looking back to the mother, he took the book from Colette but pushed the music back into her arms.

"If your mother will allow it, I'd prefer for you to keep it. Heaven knows I've got all of my music packed and it would be such a bother to try to fit it in. Besides, I wrote many of the exercises anyway, I'm sure I remember how they go."

The mother smiled approvingly and Erik looked back to the young girl who stood clutching the sheets to her chest. Sudden inspiration struck him and he stepped back into his room. Going over to a pile of paper which could not fit in any of the boxes, he searched a bit and found what he had been seeking, a thick leather music folder filled with well thumbed copies of several of the latest violin pieces. He walked back to where Colette stood in the doorway and offered her the packet, checking to see if her mother would also approve of this gift.

"I did not have room for this in any of my boxes, but I think that you might find this more useful than I. The pieces in here will be for when you improve and have more experience."

"Monsieur..." Colette was speechless as she took the folder into her arms. She looked up with eyes shining with gratitude and admiration and before Erik realized what was happening, she had thrown her small arms around him and held him tight. The tears began to fall from her brown eyes and she slowly walked back to where her mother stood.

Jules then made his way up the seven stories to Erik's door, pausing briefly to glance at the woman and child that stood staring at Erik. He proceeded to carry out the remaining boxes and called to Erik when he was ready. In a second, Erik had draped himself in his cloak and hat and walked down the rickety staircase for the last time, taking great care not to look at the thin pinched face that was wet with tears. He had almost crossed over the threshold for the last time when the young girl called out to him.

"Monsieur! Wait...please, what is your name?"

He thought regretfully of the young woman down the hall who had just begun to learn about life. He would have liked to have done more for such a beautiful soul, but the situation had been taken out of his hands now. He turned to her and watched her briefly through the mask before whispering his reply.

"Erik. My name is Erik..."

He put one hand to his fedora and stepped into the darkness and out of her life forever.

_A/N: Okay, so this is the first installment of the Benefactor series...As many of you can already tell, this will have heavy Susan Kay influences, so purists are forewarned. As I stated in the last chapter, I am well aware of the lack of character development in this chapter; I'm trying something different here and figure that it will be easier to have this piece broken into parts (a pattern of 'story'/reflection chapters). It's a new flavor that I'm trying, so please let me know what you think._

_Many thanks to the few who reviewed the last time for this piece;I don't believe thatany of my storieshave ever garnered such a high percentage of constructive reviews! There may have only been 6 reviews, but they had more important points than I have received with several of my other phics. Thanks for all of your support!_


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